


If You Go Down to the Swamps Today...

by drobovik



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Birthing, Breeding, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Dubious Consent, Egg Laying, Eggs, Exophilia, Monster sex, Monsters, Mpreg, Not Canon Compliant, Other, Oviposition, Tentacle Monsters, Tentacle Sex, Tentacles, cryptid, monster fucker au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-20
Updated: 2021-01-20
Packaged: 2021-03-12 03:13:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28878525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drobovik/pseuds/drobovik
Summary: Arthur is asked to retrieve something that Jack lost in the swamps. Arthur encounters something more than he bargained for.
Relationships: Arthur Morgan/Monster
Comments: 2
Kudos: 38





	If You Go Down to the Swamps Today...

“Hi Arthur.”  
It was Abigail. Arthur looked up from his revolver that he had taken apart and laid on the table by his bed that he was currently cleaning.  
If Arthur had learned one thing over the years, it was that whenever Abigail came to talk to him, it was because she wanted something.

“How are you, Arthur?” She asked. She wore her long dark hair in a tight bun to keep it off of her neck in the hot Lemoyne heat.  
Arthur sighed, not interested in formalities. “What you want, Abigail?”  
Her rosy cheeks flushed even rosier, “oh, I… I…”  
Arthur rolled his eyes, loaded the chambers, spun the cylinder and clicked it back into place. “Whatever it is, I’m sure it’s something Little John couldn’t _possibly_ deal with, huh?”  
At this, Abigail’s pretty, rounded face hardened slightly, “Arthur…” she said with a hint of contempt in her tone. “You know I don’t like to ask you…”  
“Oh, I know Abigail.” Arthur replied, sounding sarcastic. “What is it this time?”  
“It’s Jack. He was playin’ out near the swamps and he left his little toy horse there. Could you go get it for him? He loves it so and won’t stop cryin’ about it.”  
Arthur wanted to say no. He was tired of being an errand boy but saying no wasn’t in his nature.

Abigail told him whereabouts she last saw Jack with the toy and Arthur set off to find it soon after. The ride took him only around a half an hour, maybe slightly longer. He hated the swamps, hot, sticky, poor visibility and that damn smell that made him gag.

It took him a while, riding around in the dwindling sunlight to find the spot that seemed to match Abigail’s description.  
It was a small mound of land in the middle of the swamp, further away from the trail than Arthur would have expected Jack to go, after all, he was only a kid. But as he dismounted his horse and hitched her up, he could see that the water was only ankle deep. As he waded through the water, the smell already began to invade his nostrils; stagnant water, sludge and gator crap…

Arthur moved slowly. One of the other reasons he hated the swamps: gators. Arthur could fight a man, no problem, a dozen men if he needed to - you know where you are with a man with a gun but not an eleven foot, prehistoric reptile.  
Luckily, he couldn’t see any gators but that was usually the way. You only saw them when it was too late. 

As he was thinking this, he saw movement out of the corner of his eye. It wasn’t a gator though, didn’t move like one. Seemed more like a snake in the way it slithered, flicking its tail. Arthur was no more interested in being eaten by a snake than he was a gator so he quickened his pace to the mound of land.  
As he made his way, he glanced back. He could see something moving through the tobacco colored water, bigger than a snake, that was for sure.  
Arthur stared for a few moments, trying to make out what it was. There was more than one thing moving in the water, thick and long: legs or tentacles..?

It was maybe a squid or octopus, Arthur had to confess he didn’t know the difference, but whatever it was, it was huge. It's long blueish tentacles seemed to span the entirety of the swamp the more Arthur looked, looking more like thick tree roots than tentacles.

Arthur moved slowly and cautiously, not wanting to disturb it. He could see the wooden horse on the centre of the small island, maybe about the size of a cracker but standing out in its unfamiliar surroundings. He felt his way towards it as if he were creeping around a homestead in the dead of night while the occupants were asleep.

Eventually, Arthur reached the small bit of exposed land in the swamp, the water now just above his ankles and he was glad Jack hadn’t waded any further in. He could hear the low rumble of gators but couldn't see them in the thick underbrush. He slipped the wooden horse into his satchel, Abigail owed him big time for this.

As he picked his way carefully back towards his horse, the giant squid made a noise. Arthur froze. It was a low noise, almost a rumble, like that of a gator but louder, made the water around his ankles ripple and he could feel it vibrating. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest, his whole body pulsing along with it. 

He quickened his pace and maybe this was the wrong thing to do as the noise only seemed to intensify.  
Just as Arthur broke out into a run, he felt something wrap around his ankle and he was yanked back with such force that he lost balance completely. He fell backwards into the swamp landing hard on his back; coughing, winded. He barely had time to comprehend what was happening. He was being pulled, dragged through the water at a frightening pace; the squid was tremendously strong. Arthur’s hands reached out, fingers uselessly trying to grab onto something, anything but there was only stagnant water and milkweed.

And then he wasn’t in the water anymore. Whatever had hold of him had wrenched him out of the water by his one ankle and for a moment, he dangled over the swamp in disbelief. Then, he was thrown through the air, hitting the trunk of a tree before sliding down it. 

He lost consciousness.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

When Arthur woke, he was dazed. He couldn't remember where he was or how he'd goten there.  
He was wet, lying on his back in the foul smelling swamp. He groaned. What happened? Why did he ache all over? He tried to struggle up but couldn’t move. He tried to thrash around but it was fruitless. Something held him down tight, his wrists and ankles pinned down. 

He cried out, his voice echoed back to him. It was nightfall, he doubted there was anyone in this godforsaken swamp who would hear him. 

He stopped struggling. He felt… a warmth in the pit of his belly. He felt _good_. He didn’t understand. He strained his neck, trying to prop himself up on his elbows to see why he couldn’t move. His eyes focused.  
There was something _on him._ He couldn’t quite make out what it was, an animal? His pants were down by his ankles and something was attending to him. Arthur felt his heart jolt, his blood ran ice cold. It looked like some sort of snake but it was hollowed where the face should have been so that it could engulf Arthur’s semi-hard cock. If Arthur hadn’t been so disgusted, he might have enjoyed it; the orifice was wet and hot, it swallowed him and mimicked a suckling motion.

Arthur let out a strangled cry of horror. He struggled, looking wildly for what was holding him down: it looked like a snake? Several snakes? They’d curled themselves around his wrists and ankles, binding him with an incredible iron grip. 

He remembered the giant squid. Was it the squid doing this to him?

The squid’s tentacle, if that’s what it was, continued to massage his dick, twisting and sucking at him until he shivered and let out an involuntary moan. His cheeks turned scarlet. But it felt _good_. Goddammit. And it had been so long since he’d been even touched. Even if it had been a hundred years since he’d last been touched, should he be enjoying it from some sort of swamp squid milking him against his will?!

It continued, no matter how hard he struggled until he gave in, tired from excursion. 

Maybe it was better to leave it until he reached completion, then he might be able to wriggle out of its grip? And besides, no one was around, no one would see… But then Arthur’s head jerked back up. There was an awful, wet prodding at his ass.

“N-no..!” He managed to choke. He struggled more but the prodding continued. Arthur looked down again and saw that there were more thick, long, dark blue tentacles rippling between his legs. He yelped and thrashed harder but to no avail, the squid was strong, much stronger than him.

He wondered if he could reach his gun belt or whether he'd lost it like he had his pants and undergarments. He strained but was powerless.

Tentacles moved to pin his ankles back behind his knees, spreading his legs to make this, whatever it was, easier.  
The tentacle at his cock continued to massage and suck, taking the entire length making his head loll back, his eyes squeeze tight shut and his mouth hang open in silent pleasure. 

_Christ..!_

Arthur felt something wet and sticky being smeared across his entrance. Was the tentacle secreting that? Was it… Prepping him? It was gentle, like a lover in a way. The sticky substance left Arthur feeling warm and tingle all over. It made his eyes close, made his head fall back properly into the shallow water and his limbs relax as, oh so slowly and almost _tenderly_ , the tentacle pushed inside of him.

Arthur gasped slightly, the tentacle was cold and thick, at least the size of his fist but he’d be lying if he said he’d never explored himself before. He’d only ever used his fingers, though and the tentacle was far, far larger.

Tenaciously, it inched inside of him, almost reacting to the way Arthur's body moved, how his passage pulsed and squeezed around it. Arthur made a sound of discomfort at first, the intrusion felt overwhelming, his eyelids fluttering open and handsome face forming a grimace but more of the sticky secretion was spurting inside of him; it made him quiver and feel loose and detached in a way. 

Arthur focussed on the tentacle at his cock. It kept a steady, firm pace, sucking and sucking, so hot and wet… Arthur couldn't remember ever being blown this good.  
He wanted to touch himself too, his nipples were as hard as diamonds under his shirt and felt uncomfortable… But more goo oozed into Arthur’s passage and he felt calm… It wasn't uncomfortable at all anymore, in fact, he barely noticed his clothes now. All he could think about was the tentacle sucking him.  
He was panting and moaning now, at least he thought he was, he wasn’t sure. It was like he wasn't really there. He couldn’t feel the cold swamp water surrounding him any more, his body didn’t hurt now. He was floating…

The tentacle at his cock sucked and sucked until he saw stars. “I’m gonna-” Arthur breathed seconds before he released, toes curling and body stiffening as his orgasm hit him like a sea wave crashing on rocks.

He shook afterwards and he was aware that more tentacles were snaking over him, holding him through it. The tentacles weren’t cold anymore, they were warm, like a lover’s embrace and Arthur let himself settle into it, aftershocks of his orgasm flashing through him like lightning bugs flitting around in the night sky.  
The tentacle eased off of his cock now and caressed him like the others, tracing his balls and rubbing his taint. Arthur let out a rumbling moan at this, his body twitching and trembling, sensitive to the stimulation.

The tentacle inside of him was slowly gaining momentum, delving deeper and deeper into him with each thrust. Arthur thought it might hurt more but he suspected this mysterious sticky liquid had something to do with it. He was numb to everything but pleasure, found himself even trying to open his legs wider, give the tentacle better access to fuck him. This sensation of being stretched, being so _full_ was one he had never known he had needed until now. He pushed back, aware that he was making a sound, a needy whine. 

He should have been embarrassed but he wasn’t. All he knew was that he needed it.

The tendril flexed inside of him and Arthur was sure he could feel it growing in size, stretching him more and more. It should have hurt but all he was aware of was how he floated again, how he saw colors dancing hazily in front of him, how he didn’t want this to end…  
The tentacle wasn’t growing, no, it bulged, as if something was moving through it and then, he felt a new sensation, pressure building inside of him. He made another sound of discomfort, his legs beginning to tighten. _What was the pressure?_  
He felt something move, something squeezed into him, something round and large. Arthur yelped at this new feeling, pulling back from the tentacle that was deep in his ass now. The squid responded, he felt his cock being toyed with again, felt his nipples being suckled too and more warm, goo gushed between his legs.

Careless, lewd moans tumbled from his lips, his eyes shining with tears of perfect pleasure and Arthur floated again.

Bliss lapped at him again and he allowed himself to be enveloped by it. He was aware that the limb inside of him was bulging again, sliding something through his gaping ass and something else, round and heavy, was pushed into him. This time, it brushed up against a spot inside of him that made him spasm and his eyes roll back in his head. 

_What was that round thing?_ For one blinding moment of clarity, Arthur wondered if squids laid eggs. Before he could focus on that thought, another was being pressed into him, nuding that spot inside of him again making him curse and buck, body contorting and trembling in a way he’d never experienced before.

Arthur’s cock stood rock hard and leaking. The first tentacle wasted little time and went right back to engulfing it, sucking while Arthur’s hips bucked and canted into that beautiful heat and then back down on the tentacle planted firmly inside of him.

 _If they were eggs did that mean he’d have to lay them like a hen?_ Another egg, another wave of pleasure that made him groan. _No, that couldn’t possibly be the case. But then how would the eggs come out of him?_ Another one, another shudder ripped through his body. He moaned loud and wanton, body convulsing uncontrollably.  
He needed to feel it again, wanting more eggs to be laid into him just to feel that pleasure rippling through him again and again, never ending. And his wish was granted, more eggs came until Arthur lost count, six, seven, eight..? He didn’t care, that sweet spot in him was greedy for more and before he knew it, he was letting out a shaky gasp as his cock twitched and more cum spurted out into the tentacle’s eager “mouth”.

He shivered and bucked as the tentacle continued to fuck into him slow and steady, releasing egg after egg. He didn't care that his stomach was beginning to feel tight and full. Each release pressed up against that _place_ inside of him and before he knew it, his cock was as hard as a rock again, his thighs were trembling as another orgasm was forced out him, no cum this time, it was dry and hurt a little but at the same time, he saw white dots and shapes, heard blood pounding in his ears and then fell limp, eyes closed, mouth open as his tongue lolled languidly and drool pooled at the sides of his mouth contentedly. 

And then there was a nudge at his lips. He obliged far too willingly, opening wide like a whore on nickel night and suckling himself now at a tentacle that began to fuck his face. His groans were muffled. His tongue worked around the tentacle like it was a dick, flat to the underside while his cheeks hollowed. His own cock was being played with again, his balls squeezed, nipples licked and ass thoroughly ploughed. He would never have imagined anything like this but he was certain he’d never feel anything like it again. 

Another earth shattering orgasm, Arthur screamed this time, his whole body felt like it was giving up, he couldn’t take any more. Tears began to film over his eyes as his body juddered and twitched. But he knew he didn’t want it to stop, not yet. 

The swamp squid pushed one final egg into him and then, the tentacles began to withdraw. Arthur whined. The one from his mouth, followed by the one at his cock and the one inside of him. Finally, he was released from its grip. He lay panting for a while. Everything seemed silent and still and he was regaining his senses. 

He might have fallen unconscious for a few minutes or so, he wasn’t sure. The next thing he knew, he was shivering. He was naked. The water was cold again. That pleasant, warm tingle was gone.  
When he sat up, he retched. His stomach was horribly distended, rounded like a woman with child. Hesitantly, he touched it. It was hard and full, full of eggs. He looked around wildly for the squid but it had vanished, if he didn’t have a belly full of eggs, he might have thought that it had all been some strange dream. _It certainly had been that…_

He was dumbfounded. The bump was so large he couldn’t even see his feet. His hands trembled as he reached down and rubbed it. The skin was taut. He could feel the outline of an egg under his fingers. He swallowed. Now what? How long until the eggs came back out? And how many were there? 

He scrambled around in the water and found his clothes and satchel sodden. He was about to dress himself, part of him wondering whether his trousers would even fit now but then he realized, there was no way he could go back to camp like this..! He had to try and get the eggs out here and now. 

Arthur positioned himself on his hands and knees, like he’d seen dogs when they birthed , and began to push. He strained with all his might, hoping he could just pop the eggs out of him… But nothing happened other than he made some noises like a wounded boar but the eggs didn’t budge. 

He must have spent at least an hour there desperately pushing and grunting, gasping and moaning, a hand cradling his stomach, trying to get these goddamn eggs out. But he couldn’t. They were in there and they weren’t moving.

Resentfully, Arthur put his sopping wet clothes back on, trousers unable to button up over his newly pregnant belly. He walked slowly, each step felt heavy, to where he had left his horse. The American Paint stamped and snorted when it saw him, not recognizing him at first but he was able to calm it before climbing with difficulty into the saddle.

The motion of riding made Arthur’s stomach hurt even more. He thought he’d be sick, he could feel the eggs shifting and part of him thought his insides might burst out of his skin. He was relieved when the trail quickly led him back to the camp.

“Who goes there?” It was Charles Smith - he usually took night guard duty.  
“It’s me,” Arthur managed to say but his voice sounded different coming out of his mouth and maybe Charles could tell too because he approached Arthur’s horse.  
“Arthur, you alright?” He asked. He came into view now, shafts of moonlight filtering through the trees to show the handsome young outlaw looking up worriedly at him.  
“Y-yeah,” Arthur said shakily but despite only having known Charles Smith for six or seven months, he knew he couldn’t pull the wool over his eyes for any amount of time. Charles’s liquid brown eyes were already surveying him with suspicion. 

“You’re soaking wet.” Charles observed. He stepped closer, frowning at Arthur.  
At that moment, Arthur slid from the saddle of his horse before collapsing into Charles’s arms. He was exhausted and the pain was becoming unspeakable. 

“Arthur!”  
That was when Charles felt Arthur’s stomach. He recoiled at first, looking at Arthur agape.  
“Please Charles,” Arthur whimpered, “d-don’t let no one see me like this.”  
Charles nodded hesitantly.

Arthur would sooner die than have Dutch or Micah see him like this. But not Charles, Charles wasn't a man who judged others.

“Are… Are you injured?” Charles asked, seemingly pulling himself together quickly.  
Arthur was shaking his head, using Charles to help him stay standing. His legs shook as if he had sprinted back to camp and he felt like he would faint.  
“Don’t let the others see me like this…” Arthur repeated.  
Charles swallowed. “Wait here.”

Arthur obeyed. He sank down to the floor where he hoped sitting would help ease the pain. He must have drifted off for a short while because he jerked awake when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

“Arthur?” Charles had returned. He had a satchel in one hand and in the other he was handing Arthur some dry clothes. “You’ll catch your death of cold if you stay like this.” 

Arthur was too tired to be ashamed to hide his new body as he stripped down before Charles and changed. 

Charles's eyes took in his naked frame in shock. He’d seen Arthur in various states of undress over the past few months, it was just how it was living on top of eachother in the camp as they all did and everything else about him seemed the same… Aside from his large stomach that protruded further than Pearson's now. It was rounded, unmistakably pregnant but only a few hours ago, Arthur had left the camp looking, well, normal.  
Arthur wasn't a skinny man by any means, Arthur was broad and thick. He was solid, that would be the word Charles would choose to describe him. But now… He had the belly of a woman about to give birth. 

Stranger things had happened at sea, Charles was sure, even if he hadn’t seen them himself…

Charles mounted his own horse and helped Arthur up, too. Arthur would have protested but his body cried out for rest. He was almost glad to lean against the younger outlaw’s broad back as they rode away from the camp and let his eyes close.  
“I’ll get you somewhere more private, somewhere safe.” Charles told him. That was the last thing he remembered before he slept.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

When Arthur awoke he was lying on a bed and sunlight was streaming through, prying his eyelids open.  
For a moment, he wondered had he dreamed it all? It was some hell of a dream… But his hand reached down to his stomach and felt the skin stretched tight over an unmistakable bulge and let out a cry somewhere between horror and frustration.

“You’re awake.”

Charles came into view. They were in a slightly furnished room that had the small bed that Arthur slept in, a kitchen area and a generous wooden table that Charles was sitting at.  
“You were asleep for a long time,” Charles said, his voice was low and gentle, “the whole of yesterday and most of today.”  
“Where are we?” Arthur asked, looking around the room, struggling to sit. Had his stomach grown?  
“Small homestead in Scarlet Meadows. I scoped this place out weeks ago, keep riding by and I don’t see anyone ever here. You should be safe here.”  
Arthur nodded, rubbing his belly almost absentmindedly as he laid back on the bed.

There was a short silence. Arthur’s body ached.

“Arthur… What happened to you?” Charles asked gingerly.  
Arthur closed his eyes. He could feel the tentacles around him, the one inside of him, pleasuring him relentlessly as it pushed the eggs into him one by one.

“I don’t even know.” Came Arthur’s reply. 

“Did...something…?” But Charles couldn’t bring himself to finish the sentence and Arthur didn’t want to say it either. What would he say? He was fucked by a giant swamp squid that laid its eggs inside of him? Charles would probably think he’d been drinking the swamp water. 

“You’re… You’re Pregnant though?” Charles asked.  
Arthur glanced over at him and could see that he looked a little sheepish, as if he couldn’t believe that he was having to ask that question.

“Y-yeah. I guess so. I ugh… I don’t know how long I’ll be like this.” He gestured at himself below the waist.  
Charles nodded solemnly. “You must be hungry. I have some food.”

Charles had brought provisions in his satchel and it looked like he had hunted a wild boar while Arthur had slept.  
Arthur was indeed famished. He ate his fill, even taking seconds before returning to the bed and sleeping through to the next morning. 

It went on like that for the next three days. Arthur would only wake to eat and drink. Arthur could feel the eggs draining him, as if his body was only functioning to keep the eggs warm and safe and part of him thought maybe that was true. He’s become a living incubator. 

He thought the aches and pains would subside or at least plateau but they didn’t. The only thing that eased it was when he rubbed the skin stretched thinly over the eggs. He found it strangely comforting and often helped him sleep. 

Charles was always there when Arthur woke up though he knew that Charles left while he was asleep sometimes. Arthur didn’t ask where he went and Charles didn’t tell him. Charles wasn’t a man of words - that was probably why Arthur preferred him to anyone else in this situation.

One night, Charles reached across and laid his hand on Arthur’s belly that only seemed to swell day by day. Arthur let out a soft moan. Charles’s gentle hand on him sent a shiver the length of his entire body, made him gasp and feel a sudden rush of warmth flood him that reminded him of being in the swamp, enveloped by the tentacles. Charles’s eyes met Arthur’s. Arthur looked away, embarrassed of the noise he had let escape his lips.

He went to sleep soon after but he felt his cock twitching as he lay on his side with his back to Charles, felt it pressing up against the underside of his swollen belly. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to ignore it and eventually fell into a dreamless sleep.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

By day five, Arthur could feel the eggs shifting inside of him. He woke up during the day with pains that were enough to leave him a debilitated mess.  
He’d never felt pain like it and Arthur had been shot before. It was contractions, Arthur knew that much. They started off slowly but they became closer together, not giving Arthur time to breathe or think between them.

He struggled off of the bed and onto the floor where he sat with his back against it, his knees tented, clutching at his stomach, panting and groaning until Charles returned.

“Arthur?! Are you ok?!”  
“It’s time..!”Arthur managed to gasp between intense contractions that made him feel like he might black out. “The eggs…”  
“Eggs!?” Charles repeated, astounded. For a few moments he stared blankly at Arthur whose pants were now soaking and was visibly in labor. Then he disappeared.  
Arthur thought, for a terrible moment, that Charles had abandoned him but of course, that wasn’t the sort of man Charles was.

Charles returned and helped Arthur off of the floor and out of his clothes until he was bare, skin flushed and slicked with sweat.  
Charles carefully guided Arthur through to a room at the back which held a basin, a mirrored cabinet and a tin bath. The bath had water in it.

“Here,” Charles said, “it might help.”

Arthur sunk into the tin bath. The water was warm and eased a little of the ache of his back but the pain returned in the form of pressure inside of him. 

A whine slipped from his throat and he felt the urge to push now, to bear down on the eggs inside of him and force them out. 

It wasn’t as simple as that, however. There was no tentacle to prep him now, no sticky substance to numb him. He could feel his puckered entrance straining. Each push and contraction caused it to gape but not enough to force the head of the egg out.

Arthur gritted his teeth and clenched his jaw, lowing like cattle as he tried his hardest to push the first egg out. He knew if he could do that, the others would follow somewhat easier. 

“You’re doing real good Arthur,” Charles was murmuring from beside him, stroking the hair from his face, but Arthur could hardly hear him, as if he was on a different planet.

Another contraction forced him to push. He could feel it, feel the warm, smooth egg moving down through the canal and pressing against his sphincter. It was so close, he knew it. He was almost screaming now. The pressure built and built until, with one more push, the egg slipped out. He heard a low _clank_ as the egg slid out of him.

Arthur let himself fall back against the tin bath, panting and gasping, tremoring. There were tears sliding down the corners of his eyes. 

“It… It really is an egg.” Charles said in disbelief, reaching down into the tub and touching it, hot from Arthur and the shell firm. He turned back to Arthur and stroked the hair that stuck to his forehead with sweat back, “Well done, Arthur.”

Arthur reached to hold his still twitching stomach, groaning loudly. “The next one…”  
“Next one? Arthur, how many are there?!”

Arthur couldn’t answer. His skin burned as he pushed and pushed, clinging to the sides of the bath, reaching for Charles’s hand, as he managed to press the second, third, fourth and fifth eggs out of him. 

Blinding pain was replaced by short glimpses of warmth when the eggs pressured his secret place inside again. He was glad Charles couldn't see his cock fluttering awake beneath the surface of the water. He felt dizzy, his eyes wouldn’t focus but his contractions didn’t stop and neither did the eggs. 

The sixth egg was cresting. He’d been right, every egg was easier than the one before it. He rested after the eighth, looking down into the water that was slightly muddied with blood now but Arthur could see eight eggs clearly, each one a slightly different shade of blue, some with flecks and others not.

Charles was staring too, eyes wide as if he wasn’t believing what he was seeing and Arthur wouldn't have believed it either if the pain wasn’t pulsing through him, guiding him. 

“How many more?” Charles asked him softly.  
“I… I don’t know,” Arthur replied.

But now the next one was coming.  
“You can do it,” Charles was saying again, “you’re doing so well, Arthur. Real good.”  
He pressed out three more and then his body felt limp. The contractions lessened. Already his stomach was deflating. 

Charles helped him out of the bath when he felt strong enough, wrapping him in a towel kindly. 

“You need to rest,” Charles told him.  
Arthur glanced back at the eggs. His eggs. He felt a weird attachment to them all of a sudden. After all, they’d been inside him for the best art of a week.  
“Leave them for now,” Charles told him, guiding him back into the main room.

Artur didn’t remember getting back into bed or falling asleep. He was still naked when he woke, his hands reached down to his stomach, to rub and soothe the hatchings inside but he didn’t feel the swell anymore. He felt… empty. 

Arthur dressed himself. Charles was in the bathroom still. Some of the eggs had hatched now. Arthur peered into the tin bath and saw several small squids swimming happily in the murky water. They were cute, in a way. 

“Squids.” Charles said plainly.  
Arthur nodded.  
“How?”  
“I don’t know, Charles.”  
“Arthur…”  
“ _You_ don’t want to know. Let’s just leave it at that.”  
“Sure.”

And that was that. After all of the eggs hatched, they transferred them into a bucket and Charles took them to the closest patch of swamp to free them.

Arthur looked sadly at the drained bath after Charles left. Well, at least it was over.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Charles suggested that they stay in the little homestead a few days more until Arthur got his strength back. Arthur didn’t argue. He was indeed still weak and exhausted and he’d much rather be there than back at camp dealing with whatever scheme Dutch was cooking up now.

That night, Arthur dreamed for the first time since the eggs were put inside him.  
Tentacles engulfed him and he thought he ought to be scared but he wasn’t. He’d missed them. He felt them rubbing against every part of him, caressing him and again, he felt warmth and calm flooding his body. His legs fell apart easily and he let the tentacle inside of him again, suckers kissing the walls of his passage deliciously until he shivered and moaned.  
The tentacle fucked him again, burying itself deep, deep inside of him, pressing against that part of him that hungered to be touched. It rubbed it and rubbed it until Arthur was sobbing in pleasure. Arthur floated through blissful clouds, his body wrapped in plush pleasure.

“Arthur! Arthur wake up!”

Charles was shaking him. Arthur was sweating, lying on the bed. It was night out, he could just see Charles by the gaslight in the room, long silky hair framing his square, handsome face as he looked at Arthur, worried.  
“You were moaning, I think you were having a bad dream.”  
“S-sorry, Charles.” Arthur stammered.  
“Are you ok?”  
“Y-yeah. Yeah.”

As he rolled onto his side again, he could feel his cock was rock hard. He wanted to touch it but didn’t. He slept. 

The dream came back the next night. This time, Charles was outside smoking when Arthur awoke, cock standing as straight as a soldier.  
He went into the bathroom and locked the door. He wanted that strange feeling of calm, that tingle, like it would never end. Maybe it was addictive. 

He took himself in hand, his member leaking with precum and red with urgency. Arthur stroked himself feverishly over the basin, closing his eyes and remembering how one of the tentacles had nudged at his lips and he’d sucked so happily on it while he himself was sucked and fucked by the other tentacles. He wanted it again, _had to have it again._ The hot mouth of the tentacle around him, the unstoppable pounding of the one inside of him and the eggs being laid into him one by one until they were countless. Yes, his stomach had hurt but he missed the weight of it, it felt like something was missing now. He felt empty and without a use. He wished he’d been able to stay in the tub with his eggs until they’d hatched. 

Arthur gasped as he came hard into the basin, fingers gripping the cold porcelain, legs trembling, using all his strength to keep himself standing. He composed himself before returning to bed.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

When the day came to go back to camp, Arthur’s belly had returned to normal but he still had the dreams and still locked himself in the bathroom at night to jerk off at the thought of it. 

“Where have you two been?” Dutch asked slightly accusatively as soon as the pair returned. “I’ve been losing my mind here!”  
“We was following a lead,” Arthur said quickly, the story both Charles and Arthur had agreed they’d tell, “it… It didn’t work out.”  
“Great.” Dutch replied sarcastically before stalking back to his tent.

Arthur found Abigail later on that day in her tent with Jack.  
“Here’s your horse back, Jackie,” Arthur said, handing the wooden horse to him and ruffling the boy’s hair, “don’t you go playin’ in them swamps no more, ok?”  
“Ok Uncle Arthur.” Jack replied brightly with a smile.  
“Oh, Arthur. Thank you so much!”

Arthur didn’t sleep that night. He couldn’t. He knew what he’d see when he closed his eyes and knew there’d be no way he could relieve himself with the other members of the gang around - there was never a moment’s privacy when you run with twenty other people. 

And even if he could, it wasn’t enough.  
By the time everyone else was asleep and the campfire had almost burned down to embers, Arthur had made up his mind.  
He mounted his horse and rode back to the swamp.

He couldn’t find the squid at first and after an hour or so of wading through water and dodging gators, he thought that maybe he ought to give up. This was crazy. He was crazy for wanting this again but his stomach ached with an emptiness and he couldn’t think of anything other than being fucked and impregnated by the swamp squid. 

And then he heard it, a low rumbling, lower than that of a gator. The water around him began to ripple and then a thick, cool tentacle wound itself around his calf, slowly sliding up to his thigh.

Arthur closed his eyes and smiled.


End file.
